A tea counter that got out of hand, happily
In 2008, Henry and Lian Chiao took over a narrow storefront two doors down from where we are now. It was meant to be a tea shop — shelves of leaf, a few stools, a kettle always on. But Henry kept his grandmother’s recipe book under the register, and on slow afternoons he’d fold a dozen har gow and steam them for whoever was drinking.
Those dumplings are the reason you’re reading this. Neighbours started coming for the dim sum and staying for the tea; weekends grew a queue. In 2014 we moved into the corner room on South King Street, built an open kitchen and a proper tea counter, and never looked back.
A few years, a few turns
| 2008 | Henry & Lian Chiao open a tea counter on South King Street. |
| 2010 | Grandmother Mei-Hua’s har gow goes on the menu. The queue begins. |
| 2014 | We move into the corner room, build an open kitchen and tea bar. |
| 2017 | Chef Marcus Wong joins; the roast window and clay pots arrive. |
| 2021 | Our first pressed pu-erh comes of age; the tea flight is born. |
| Today | Forty-plus dim sum made daily, thirty teas, one family still at the door. |
Slow is a flavour
We make dim sum to order because a dumpling that has waited is a lesser dumpling. We brew tea gongfu-style because the best cup is rarely the first. And we keep the tables long and the service unhurried, because a teahouse that rushes you isn’t really a teahouse.
- Everything from the steamer is folded the same day
- Tea bought in small lots, direct from growers
- Roast meats and stocks made in-house, never bought in
- No carts, no heat lamps, no clock on your table
“It feels like someone’s grandmother is in the back, because she basically is. Best dim sum and the best tea I’ve had this side of Hong Kong.”
Jonathan TeoFirst Hill · Weekend regular
Save a table at Tong Chiao
Weekends fill fast for dim sum. Reserve ahead for groups of four or more, or just walk in and we’ll pour you a pot while you wait.